Merry

Santa left something too good in one of the stockings, and that's why on Christmas morning all of the stockings were crashed and spilling on the floor. My ingenious system for hanging stockings was no match for a determinded cat after a fluffy wool llama toy.

Geoff and I were the first ones up, and I solved the crashed stockings mystery, then restored all. It was 5am. We unloaded the dishwasher, then filled it up, again. I made tea. Geoff made coffee. Then I rang sleigh bells. And that's how the morning began. I confess... I love all the days from Thanksgiving right through Christmas Eve, and then Christmas Day feels like the beginning of the end. The end of anticipation, of wonder, of preparing, of secrets and plans, even of the longest nights, which I particularly love. After Christmas comes the awareness that Winter break will whiz by, that the tree will need to come down, and school will start up, again. Sorry. I sound more morose than I actually feel, but it's a shame to see the veil lifted.

There can be no denying it... we positively spoiled each other. And it was a slow, appreciative, happy morning. Each and every gift is opened one at a time, and we play, and admire, read aloud, share, pass things around, and laugh. If Christmas must come to end, at least we make the very most of our celebration. Do you know Reddy Kilowatt? He found his way into our stockings, along with notebooks, pencils, Pez, and kazoos!

Seven kazoos! Each handmade, not by Santa's elves, but by William. The body is bass wood, and the resonator cap is walnut. I wrote about them on Instagram. For weeks William has been very busy at several different projects, including these kazoos. They sound good, too. Funny thing is, instinctive kazoo playing may be a hereditary skill. Maria and I are still trying to get the hang of it, while Geoff was able to bzzzzzz out a tune right off the bat! The kazoos look pretty, and feel buttery smooth. We love them.

And there was another woodworker in our midst! Just look at what Max did for my knife. This is the same knife Alex rescued for me. It never should have gone into the dishwasher, but life happens, and after four years, my favorite knife needed another rescuing. This time Max took charge. He chose ancient African bog-wood and a band of purple acrylic. Max sat beside me and described all of the steps he made to refurbish my knife. The brass pins were formed on the lathe, and then all the parts were assembled around the knife's tang, so he could shape the handle on the belt sander, with a spindle handle, and finally, sanding it by hand. He sharpened the blade, too. Everyone knows... my favorite knife doesn't go in the dishwasher! It's beautiful, and lovely to hold.

The rest of the day went, pretty much, like this... reading, naps, reading naps, cats playing and napping, and people playing, and napping. It's wonderful. Also, we make a tremendous mess. Even when we tidy as we go, things get absolutely jumbled. It makes me twitch, but the young folks insist that it's a good and necessary jumble, essential to the merry of Christmas. It's a good practice... to be merry, even in the midst of jumbles, to appreciate all of it. We have made the most of our holidays, and there is more to come.